Ace American History
by PosPosPos
Summary: America is really proud about his Independence Day, but he doesn't seem to have all the facts straight. The other nations just can't seem to get a word in edgewise! Two; Teaching is hard, unless you're America!
1. Today Is My Birthday! Or Something!

A young bespectacled man named Alfred sat, wearing a face of deep thought. This man was in fact the superpower of the world, the great hero America, and as such many responsibilities fell on his shoulders. He was always having to make decisions, and today he had a particularly difficult one to make – one which had troubled him for a while and caused him a great deal of stress. For all of three minutes.

"I know!" The fair-skinned man exclaimed, jumping from his sit on the cooler. "I'll have a hot-dog _and_ a hamburger!"

And he continued his mental self-praise until that pesky polar bear-loving neighbor of his had to rain on his parade.

"Um, America… aren't you suppose to be on a diet?" The man, who looked a lot like Alfred, spoke tentatively.

"Aren't you suppose to be on a diet, eh?" The American mocked, doing a poor imitation of a Canadian accent, which to Canada must have sounded like Sarah Palin on crack. "Don't worry, I never make poor decisions. I'm America, the hero!"

Canada looked away, his face showing, perhaps, skepticism?

"Besides," America added. "It's my birthday!"

"Oh, is it?" Another party guest asked, seemingly disinterested.

America looked over to the guest, an older man in clothes that seemed far too warm for the July weather. Obviously it was some European (Man those guys are weird!), but could it be he really didn't know of the great America's birthday? That was impossible, it was the most important day of the whole year!

"Hey!" The young nation cried. "What are you even doing here? This is my birthday party! Is it possible that you really don't know what happened on this day?"

Alfred's mouth hung open, but he didn't give the other nation time to reply.

"I'll have you know that some two-hundred… wait- no, wait – yeah. Is that right? Maybe more like two-thousand… In the year one, in Bethlehem, I was born in a manger,"

"Is that so?" The European raised a questioning brow without affect.

America sighed. Obviously those poor centimeter-counting, warm beer drinking commies across the Atlantic didn't have a very good education system. But it wasn't really there fault, was it? After all, not every country could be as great as America.

"America, I don't think-" Canada was commenting, but no one in the circle that had formed around the states (as they referred to America) acknowledged this.

"Then, in fourteen-hundred and ninety-two," Alfred continued, happy to have everyone's attention. " I left my home of Italy, where ever that is, or maybe it was Spain, but aren't those the same place? Anyway, I sailed the ocean blue! To India!"

A dark-haired man with a curl to his left spit out whatever he had been drinking (either tomato juice, or a much needed Bloody-Mary) and turned to look at his right-side-curled counterpart.

"Uh… Spain is…" A man with a tanned complexion and dark hair had raised his finger to object, but never got the words out.

An Asian guest was merely crossing his hands back and forth, mouthing 'no' repeatedly.

"Didn't you say you were from Bethle-" Canada tried to supply, but was once again cut off by America.

"India was a really scary place! It was full of Indians! Luckily, since I'm such a hero, I converted all those savage guys and made them civilized!"

There was then a mutter of 'Oh, God'.

"I don't think the Indians liked the French very much. They had a war or something,"

"Uh, Monsieur America-"

"But what did I care? I was the land of the brave and the home of the free!"

"You mean..." Canada got the impression he should just stop trying.

"But this dude, Leif Ericson, was trying to say _he_ discovered India! Luckily my boss, George Washington-"

Alfred stopped for a moment to going fishing in his pants' pocket. Funny, his pants seemed a bit tighter than they used to. Must be hard to contain my greatness, the nation thought to himself.

"This guy," America held up a shiny piece of copper with pride, "Had to fight a war with him. This was called the Revolutionary War because, since General Washington is so round, as you can see, they had to revolve around each other,"

The blonde was motioning revolutions with his hand as someone remarked 'I'm going to be sick'.

"But isn't that Abra-" An inquisitive European was squinting towards the coin, before he was berated by the United States.

"Would you guys quit interrupting? This is a really important story for me. I don't interrupt Japan when he talks about _his _founding fathers; Godzilla and Rodan, and I expect you guys to treat me with the same respect. It's about national pride!"

"America, Godzilla didn't actually…" Japan began, but a large hand indicated for him to stop.

"No, no, America is right," Spoke the abnormally large Slavic nation. "It's about national pride, let him continue,"

The rest of the countries sighed, but agreed, knowing the importance of nationalism. Although some of the younger nations had run off to play, or get more food. 'America is stupid!' Sealand had sung as he ran away.

"Well, obviously I won, but I didn't like the Indians… hmm I'm not sure exactly what happened to them, but they all disappeared some time after I won the Korean war in the early eighteenth century. Say, those Chinese guys were rough!"

"But, aru..." The oldest nation cocked his head, but thought that maybe his English just wasn't very good. No one else seemed to mind.

The nations nodded, hoping the story would end soon as they'd promised to endure it.

"But my country wasn't out of the woods yet! I was oppressed, oppressed I tell you by those damned Europeans! Those communist bastards! And not only the Europeans, but Russia and Germany too! Oh, but man, I remember this one boss Germany had, I kicked his ass and was the hero! I did it all single handedly,"

"Nyet-"

The metric-system-using, warm-beer-drinking, bad-song-contest-entering nations of the world looked appalled.

"Hey, where do you get off calling us communists?"

"Do you even know where Europe is?"

A blonde man with a stern face who had been eating a Wurst had curled himself in a ball and was sobbing.

"Hey, Germany," The right-curled man was saying. "Don't worry, America didn't really mean those things,"

"I'm not crying because he called us communists," The man sobbed. "I'm crying because he's… he's such an idiot it makes me sad!"

"Well, when those evil socialists started taxing our tea, I really let them have it!"

The group looked hopeful at where the story was going.

"That's when you had the Boston Tea Party, right?" The pretty girl, Hungary, asked.

"HAHAHAHA!" Alfred began to laugh uncontrollably. Oh man, what a dumb question!

He patted the girl on the back in jest, causing her to flinch and bite her tongue not to get angry.

"Of course not, Austria, tea parties are gay and probably started in Canada or something,"

Hungary moved her mouth to the side. "I'm Hungary,"

"Well help yourself. This is America, we have plenty of food," The American beamed with pride.

"No, I'm Austria," A regal man beckoned his attention.

"Really? You don't sound like it. Say 'the dingo ate my baby'."

The man, Austria, merely stared at him. "No,"

"Anyway, anyway," America shook his hand. "That was a tough time for America, but luckily, when that 'Pip, pip, cheerio' Britain tried his 'taxation without representation' shtick, I was ready!"

America's story kept on for a while, he made grand gestures and drew some charts while his guest groaned, cried, and stifled their laughter/anger.

Just when the sun was setting, that 'Pip, pip, cheerio' guy, Arthur was his name, decided to show up to the party. He had been debating whether or not he should go, as it wasn't exactly his favorite date of the year, but it was already two-thousand and ten, so he thought he should show his modernity and make an appearance. Plus, he liked to experience sunshine at least once a year.

He arrived just in time for the end of America's story.

"That was when Rocky Balboa, the Ital- I mean _American_ stallion, defeated Europe's prime minister, Ivan Drago, and won America's independence on July Fourth, and that's why Americans are so proud of it!"

Arthur could feel his face twitching.

"America?" He asked.

"Oh, England! I didn't think you'd come," America seemed surprised. "What's up?"

"Is that really how you think it happened?"

"Well obviously," America scoffed. "That's exactly how it happened. Why, do you think something different?"

England was about to go into a rant about how bloody retarded the American was, but a sudden thought popped into his head.

With a grin he said; "No, no, that's exactly how it happened. And say, uh, what happened on July Fourth, Seventeen Seventy-Six?"

"Uh…" America thought hard for a moment. "Did the Yankees win the world series?"

England smiled. "Say, America, do you think you could come teach history at my schools?"

"Pshaay," America waved it off as the sound of fireworks were heard. "They don't call me the hero for nothing!"

And the nations of the world watched the fantastic firework show, awing at the sight, and Alfred smiled. He was truly proud to be an American.

**A/N: Alright, I'm going to be honest, not all the information in this is factually accurate. That's right, pennies aren't made out of copper anymore.**

** No, but on a serious note, there are so many Americans who don't know their own history, and it's a pretty sad thing. So if you know someone like this, please beat them with a history book, or a globe or something. It's for national pride! **

** Disclaimer; Don't own. **


	2. Get Me A Big Mac! Or Something!

The second hand ticked quickly by. Well, really it ticked at the same pace it always did, but it seemed as fast as Arthur's own heartbeat. Not that he worried, or anything like that, it wasn't like that stupid American was getting to him.

But blast it he was already an hour late! More accurately he was a few days late, since the first time he tried to come he accidentally got on a plane to _New_ England.

"I'm here!" A voice interrupted England's therapeutic pencil-breaking time.

A room full of British school children turned their heads towards the doorway.

"America!" England was quick to chastise. "You're late!"

Alfred smiled guiltily. "Well, it's not my fault. That Quidditch field out there is huge! I'm going to need a guide or something. Which one of them is Harry?"

England tried to even out his breathing, he said he wasn't going to get worked up about this. He had braced himself for this.

"Ah this isn't..." He began and stopped himself, seeing the look on America's face.

Oh, bloody hell, the Brit thought, pointing to a random student. "That one,"

"Anyway," Arthur continued, ignoring the protests of his poor bespectacled student. "The kids have already had their History lesson, they've already moved on to English,"

England seemed confused as America burst into laughter.

"You would need a class for that, wouldn't you?"

A pencil snapped in Arthur's hand, and he reached for another one.

"But, hey, I happen to be great at English! I mean, come on, I invented the language!"

"Sir," A student raised her hand. "Didn't English originate in Britain from dialects brought by Germanic settlers?"

Alfred looked aghast. He turned to Arthur in horror. "What have you been teaching them?"

"Kids," England deadpanned, his eyes thin slits. "Where do they get these things?"

America sighed in understanding and turned to the student. "I'm sorry, Hermoine, but that's just a silly little myth. English was actually a product of America's industrial revolution, supply and demand, you know,"

"No, I... I actually don't," The girl sighed. "And my name's not-"

"So! I will teach the wonderful language of American English!"

England's pencil was beginning to crack. "Joy,"

"Okay, now, how would you ask for lunch in English?" America asked.

The students looked among themselves, skeptical at the simple question. Several of them hesitantly raised their hands.

"Yes, you, Malfoy?"

"Uh... Could I please have lunch?"

Once again, America looked horrified. "England! These children can't speak English good at all,"

"Can't speak English _well_,"

"I know! That's delectable!"

"...Detestable?"

America let out a shaky breath. "Alright, repeat after me; Eh, Jackass,"

"America!" England was shocked, but reluctantly let the man continue.

"'Ey, Jackass," The children repeated.

"Get me," America spoke, and the children mimicked; "Get me,"

"A Big Mac,"

"A Big Mac," The kids finished.

"Very good!" America smiled with pride.

"Actually," Arthur looked at the clock on the wall. "English is over now. It's time for Science, and as your test scores show, that probably isn't your best subject. I guess it's time for you to be getting home!"

"Huh?" America cocked his head. "What do you mean? I just got here, plus I'm great at Science!"

"Are you, now?" England did not try and mask his skepticism.

"Yes. Actually, I'd love to teach your kids about a very serious issue; Global Warning,"

"Global _Warning_?"

"Yes," America nodded solemnly. "Carbon Dioxide in our Atmosphere traps infrared rays causing temperatures to rise, and this is known as the Greenhouse Effect,"

The entire class, England included, stared in complete and utter amazement at the make-shift teacher.

Maybe there's hope for him yet, England thought in awe.

"And this is a warning from the Neptunians," America continued, crushing the hopes of all around him. "If we don't paint all our houses green, then they're going to keep sending infrared rays at us until it's like, eleven-six billion degrees out. Well, that shouldn't bother you guys too much since you don't have a sun, and can use magic. But think of the poor Americans!"

Oh, they were thinking of the poor Americans alright.

"Eleven-six?" The pencil snapped. "Eleven-six? What the bloody hell kind of number is eleven-six billion? Is it eleven, or is it six, god damn it! Or is it seventeen? Christ, America!"

America looked awfully hurt. He hung his head in shame. "Well, to be honest, England..."

"... Yes?" England asked curiously.

"I'm, I'm kind of a math genius, so I understand if this is a little difficult for you,"

"Just get out!" England shouted.

"Wait!" America cried as he was pushed out the door. "Can we go back to English? I know a great poem; A rat done bit my sister Nell, with whitey on the moon, her face and arm began to swell-"

"Honestly, America, you're just too smart for us. I'm sorry," England slammed the classroom door behind him.

America frowned. Somehow he knew he was destined for this sort of fate. He shrugged, as he munched on a burger on the way out. It was true what they said – It's lonely at the top.

**A/N: Because it was suggested, it had to be done. An odd phenomenon I found when asking foreigners to do their impression of an American accent they **_**all**_** said the exact phrase 'Eh, Jackass, get me a Big Mac'. **

** See? America isn't just good at History! **


End file.
